


swallow nostalgia, chase it with lime

by tastinglove



Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Past Child Abuse, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 13:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17747048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastinglove/pseuds/tastinglove
Summary: Mac happens. Both James and Harry do some pushing and pulling. And then some.





	swallow nostalgia, chase it with lime

**Author's Note:**

> written for happyjarryholidays round 2  
> prompt: Storge (Love for Family) - Jarry and their family

Harry is texting Zack outside the Bean, catching up with him on his travels. The other boy had left town so spontaneously that he had facetimed him for a goodbye from the plane – but then Harry had still been...occupied with James after leaving the Hutch for some privacy in the flat, Romeo generously saying he had been planning to check out this new movie playing in the small indie theatre. Later that day, one of James’ cashmere sweaters slung over his body and with his feet over the other man’s lap on the couch, he’d finally checked his phone and the missed calls. Worrying for a second before ringing him back and getting the surprising news about him packing his bags and heading off to Paris to be with Holly. Harry had felt a bit shocked but with one quick glance to the man next to him, he understood dropping everything for the one you love most.

Zack is complaining about the taxi prices for his and his girlfriend’s day trip to Versailles when James comes back out, carrying two steaming styrofoam cups.

‘Here you go.’ Harry grabs the drink from him, eagerly taking his first sip and letting the foamy liquid coat his tongue, the shot of hazelnut he knows James ordered for him bringing a pleasant sweetness.

He wraps his hand tighter around the cup and its nice warmth, murmuring out a ‘thank you’ and then slipping his other hand into James’ – smiling softly to himself. He gets to have this now. James as his boyfriend, them going on casual coffee dates and walks around the village, holding hands and pressing kisses onto eachother’s mouths, cheeks and necks where everyone could see them and stare. It sends a thrill through him, a combination of ‘ _look at what I have_ ’ and a sense of grounding domesticity he has never felt before.

‘Thanks for the hazelnut by the way, I know you’re a coffee purist who thinks anything but a spoonful of sugar ruins the sanctity of it all but..this tastes like sweet dreams in a cup.’ He hums as he takes another gulp, sees the older man’s breath crystallize infront of him as he breathes out a laugh.

‘You’re welcome. Though the emphasis is definitely on sweet here…I don’t know how you can drink this stuff.’

‘You are what you drink, I guess.’, Harry teases.

‘So I’m..what? A dark roast?’ James raises his eyebrow comically.

‘Mhh. More like rich..and bitter.’

James nudges their shoulders together. ‘Cheeky.’

‘Fine. How about rich and bitter _and_ worth waking up for.’

‘Much better.’ The older man leans down to drop a kiss on top of his head.

They enjoy the morning air and eachother’s company for a few quiet moments, a couple heaps of slushy grey snow on the sides of the road.

Harry wants to ask if they should go and get some groceries while they’re out already, with now even more than three people in the flat someone is always about to be a bit peckish and the fridge never staying stocked up for super long, when-

‘Well if this isn’t my favourite son.’ James goes rigid next to him almost instantly, the nails of his fingers slightly digging into Harry’s. He comes to a halt abruptly, making Harry stop as well.

Coming up to them is Mac Nightingale. Harry remembers having interacted with the man himself twice, both drunk. Later regretting one of them as he was surprised by Mac’s angry side, which sucked but wasn’t his main source of regret, no – it had made James worried about him and he hated it even back then, the frenzied expression in his eyes as he had dragged him away.

Harry looks over at James now and he doesn’t see much of anything on his face. A cool mask. His shoulders are broad and high, his back straight. He’s strong, Harry knows he is, but he hates the weird vibes he’s getting off of all this already – his boyfriend’s posture indicating a tense encounter ahead of them.

‘Mac, I’d say good morning but I think you might have just ruined it.’ James’ tone is sharp and Harry is aware he can get like this – annoyed by most people in life he encounters but it’s usually more flippant, naturally uncaring – this, this is supposed to hurt.

f it does, Mac doesn’t show it.

‘Oh come on, don’t be like that.’ Mac’s gaze suddenly shifts from James over to him. Harry immediately feels scrutinized, eyes travelling down his body and then up again – as if trying to look for a weak point, some place to push. ‘There’s no need to, especially not when your newest little friend here is present.’

James presses his lips together, one side almost tugging up like he’s about to snarl all feral, and Harry wants to say something, ease the tension for him a bit…but he doesn’t know if he’d make it worse.

Mac’s eyes are focused somewhere between him and James. Harry furrows his brows, confused, and looks down to- _oh_. They’re holding hands. James presses their knuckles together once before pulling his hand away. Harry misses it instantly.

When he looks back up, his boyfriend’s father has a look on his face that makes his blood go a bit cold, a wicked grin on his lips like he’s found a golden treasure chest. He doesn’t know why, but Harry’s mind simply goes ‘ _oh no_ ’.

‘It’s Harry, isn’t it?’, Mac asks and he wonders if the man recalls their past interactions.

He swallows, feels James’ shoulder brush against his and it feels deliberate, like despite pulling away his hand, he wants to show him he’s here.

‘Yes.’, he says. Something tells him this is not the moment to offer his hand for a greeting. Before he can get another word out, trying to think of what to actually say, James comes forward.

‘Did you actually want something? Or are you just here talking to us to make sure your face doesn’t freeze into place with that scowl on…Wait, no, I think that’s just how it normally looks.’

Harry bites his lip, stopping a full blown laugh.

Mac’s face sours, his eyes turing to icy stone.

‘Big words for someone who’s parading around his new boytoy this early. Some things should stay behind closed doors, your know, there are still kids on their way to school.’

It feels a bit like whiplash. Sure, he’s had the occasional ‘fag’ thrown at him by immature classmates but somehow this is worse. He sees James’ adam's apple out of the corner of his eyes, swallowing heavily. Harry peeks up at him and his eyes are a bit misty, just the tiniest bit, and it makes him want to wrap his arms around him immediately and get him out of here right now.

James has opened up about Mac’s homophobia before, in quiet moments where everything around them is dark and they’re facing eachother in their bed. The blackness drowning everything out, their pupils like the night sky, and the only thing that doesn’t feel like the universe around them is their warm breaths meeting in the middle. That’s when James tells his stories, Harry trying to remember every word, hoping that if he clings onto every syllable he might just absorb some of the pain they carry with them and take if from him.

He also has nightmares sometimes. Quiet whimpers that turn into crashing arms and legs, making him feel helpless. He wakes him with gentle hands on his shoulders, James’ shirt damp with sweat under his fingers. When it first happened, Harry had panicked, not sure whether it was ok or not to reach out and touch him. After instinctively laying a hand against the older man’s forehead to check for a temperature, thankfully there hadn't been one apart from flushed, angst induced heat, James’ had turned his head into his palm like a cat, melting into Harry’s touch. That had calmed him down, made him feel like he was actually doing the right thing by wrapping an arm aound him then and cradling his head onto his own shoulder. Shushing him softly and letting him catch his breath. Sometimes he feels hot tears burning against his neck like the shame he knows James feels in these moments, no matter how many times he reassures him it’s alright. Other times his whole body will shake until their heart beats find the same rhythm and their chests and stomachs rise in sync - lulling them back to sleep. And then some nights, the older man will press his nose into Harry’s shirt, inhaling deeply before pulling back, and start to speak about those unspeakable things, breaking Harry’s heart a little in the progress. It melts back together when James says things like ‘ _if only I could tell my fifteen year old self that it isn’t all quite as hopeless and dreary in the future, law school is more fun than it actually sounds and that tiny village you’ll move to will hold the love of your life_ ’. Both their cracks healing, never completely mended of course, but no longer painful. No empty ridges, a muscle beating and full like it might overflow with adoration.

Those nights seem very far away now, the winter sun bright and sharp. Everything is as it is, reality in the form of Mac Nightingale staring back at them like a villain out of one of Grimm’s fairy tales.

‘After all this time, that is all you’ve got? Some textbook bigotry? Homophobia for dummies, is that it?’, James spits out, baring his teeth.

‘Don’t be so dramatic, you have company.’ Mac pauses, his grin widening even more and Harry wants to punch it off his face. ‘You’re really not gonna introduce me properly then, are you?’

‘You’re not worth our time.’, Harry bursts out, not being able to hold back anymore. Both of their heads turn to him, surprised at him speaking up.

Mac huffs like an old dragon. ‘I guess you got yourself a bitch that can bark after all.’

James shoots forwards so fast, Harry can barely grab the tail end of his coat to try and defuse the situation.

‘Don’t you dare talk to him like that. Ever.’ His voice is booming with anger, but it only seems to rile Mac up even more, laughing crinkles forming beside his eyes as his son hovers a head over him.

‘Oh, it looks like I hit a nerve, didn’t I?’, Mac cackles. ‘Go on then. Punch your old man. Right here, in the middle of the street. Finally show everyone that you’re at least something more than a sissy. Might just add something to your criminal record. I bet you enjoyed prison, didn’t you? All those other men around you in their cells, some fun times in the shower, eh?’

Harry sees red as Mac spits his words out, James throwing his still half full cup to the side, liquid splashing all over the ground, balling both his hands up, knuckles looking flushed already. He dashes forward to grab hold of Mac’s collar, crinkling the fabric in his vice and Harry rushes after him to pull him back by his shoulder.

‘James, James, hey! He’s not worth it.’ He tries to get through to him, not knowing if he’s even hearing him through his blind rage, but Harry manages to tug him back a step. He keeps his hands on the older man’s body for now, kneading the tips of his fingers into his shoulder blades in a way that ususally calms him down, makes him pliant after a long day when they end up tangled up together on the sofa.

But now he shrugs him off, muscles tense and moving wild until Harry’s palms are no longer on him. Harry knows not to take it personally, but it still stings just a bit, especially after him withdrawing his hand earlier on as well. He bites his lip to make the feeling go away.

‘James’, he repeats. ‘You don’t have to do this. Look at me.’ James keeps staring at his father, his jaw clenching – at least his fingers are no longer in fists but Harry is still not happy with how heavy he’s breathing, like he’s trying to hold in another outburst.

Mac looks like he’s ready to let out a new remark, his eyes glinting with delight at the situation and Harry very quickly steps in the narrow space between the two men.

‘Look at me.’, he says slowly, all up in James’ face so that the other man has no choice but to meet his eyes. His boyfriend’s pupils are blown wide with anger and they’re still a bit shiny. Harry reaches out tentatively to softly lay his hand below James’ elbow, barely pressing into the his coat, not even quite feeling his arm underneath. The older man doesn’t flinch or move away. ‘It’s alright. I don’t care what some small-minded, big-headed gargoyle stuck in the 1950s thinks or says about me, alright?’ His boyfriend’s lip twitches up a tiny bit into a smile. Success. Behind him he can hear Mac squawk offendedly at being name called like that.

He keeps his touch on James, grounding him, before turning around and facing their nemesis.

‘You done yet? Or what’s next on your agenda, you evil master mind? Going after those school kids you mentioned? Steal an apple from the teacher’s table, fight someone over their lunch money? All of that seems right up your alley. Except the school part, you don’t sound like the kind of guy who ever spent much time there.’

Mac’s nose flares with every word, his face going an ugly red, like a dried tomato.

‘Who do you think you are, talking to me like that, you little-‘

‘He’s my boyfriend. And a better man than you could ever even hope to be if you had an eternity to change who you really are.’, James speaks up loud and clear behind him. Harry turns his neck, suprisedly, and instantly smiles. There it is. The confident look back playing on his face, eyes alight with a pleasant fire. He moves his arm to sling his hand back together with Harry’s, their fingers locking into place, knuckles gliding against eachother and offering tangible love and security. Everything feels right again.

When Mac follows the movement this time, he doesn’t look amused. He looks as them like their unity is something dangerous, something that could be threatening to him. Something he needs to get rid of.

‘Now, if you’ll excuse us. We actually have things to do today, some of them involving the family members that have abandoned you and others involving our bed. I’ll leave you with that mental image. Make sure you don’t quite choke on your venom.’ With that James lead him away, their interlocked hands warm together. Harry’s grin breaks loose and looking up at his lover he sees him release a breath through his nose. James notices him staring and looks back at him, finally reciprocating his smile, a big one this time. It’s really fucking gorgeous.

Harry stares back over his shoulder one more time, Mac’s eyes drilling into their backs, his face scowling like a Disney villain, his eyes looking almost black.

They get a bunch of comfort food for tea, Harry babbling about random topics to give lightness back to their day. James is grateful, basically overloading him with random gentle caresses to his lower back and outer thighs all day. They stay close when they eat together with Cindy and Romeo, the latter noting how his dad is being a bit untypically quiet. That’s when Harry looks at him from across the dining table, silently questioning him whether they should bring the incident up. He kind of thinks both Cindy and Romeo would want to know if Mac was amping up his behavior again but James stops mid-chew on his wrap and minutely shakes his head at him. He lets it drop, for now. Things are quiet for the rest of day, James seeming solemn and deep in thought, focusing almost exclusively on going through his e-mails.

When they go to bed that night, James holds him tight from behind. It doesn’t feel like it often does, like he’s wrapping Harry up in his arms to keep him close and protect him from everything outside of their flat, shitty exes and neglectful fathers and whispered gossip, to make sure he’s not slipping away after months of uncertainty during and after their affair when sticky summer turned into bare boned and grey fall.

Tonight it feels like James is gripping onto him like Harry’s an anchor, like James is afraid of slipping away himself.

Harry doesn’t mind being his corner stone for the next few days, and slowly but surely his boyfriend’s laugh seems completely carefree again. He knows he can’t make James forget about Mac, can’t erase anything, but he can remind him that he’s here now, that the present is the present. And that sleeping in late to do absolutely nothing but taste eachother, eating ice cream cones despite it being minus 2 degrees outside, Harry stealing one of his older, worn in sweaters to have James staring entrancedly after him and humming together to some mindless pop radio while doing the dishes are all anchors too, little moments that make the past seem far away and keep them not only grounded but happy.

______________________________________________________________________

Of course it doesn’t last forever. James starts acting weird again a few days later. Marnie and Cindy have decided that despite their bickering, they share a common interest in bubble baths and weird facial masks that sound more like breakfast bowls to Harry. They've booked a three day spa trip in Liverpool. The flat feels almost strangely silent but what has him on edge is both his boyfriend’s  and Romeo’s behaviour.

They share conspicuous glances all day when they think he’s not looking or when he asks them if they’ve got any plans for the evening. When he suggests they could go to the movies to check out one of the Oscar nominated flicks, they finally cave and reveal they’ve got something else going on already.

‘He’s taking me to the pub.’, Romeo blurts out, the words pressed out rushedly.

‘The pub?’, Harry asks, crossing his arms and quirking an eyebrow. Yeah, right.

‘Yeah, he…I think he’s secretly been reading this parent magazine stuff. You know how he is with this whole..father-son bonding stuff.’, the younger boy flies through the sentence, his smile trying to be disarming. It’s not quite working.

‘ _He_ is right here and I’ve not been reading any parental tips anywhere. I have a natural and trustworthy, fail proof instinct for interhuman interaction. Which I’m using to have a nice evening out, buy him his first official beer. Maybe even participate in the pub quiz if we’re feeling wild.’

‘..You wanna do a pub quiz?’, is what Harry asks incredulously.

‘Well, want is a strong word but let’s say I could be persuaded to join in.’

‘He’ll show off his history knowledge or whatever, I’ll chime in on pop culture stuff. It’ll be fun.’

Harry lets his eyes ping-pong back and forth between the two of them, trying to judge what they’re up to. While he’s still a bit disbelieving, he can’t find anything majorly suspicious despite Romeo’s fidgety stance and lets out a sigh, uncrossing his arms in defeat.

‘Fine. I guess I can teach you a thing or two about beer, this one is definitely more of a wine lover. And a snob on top of that.’

‘Actually..’, James starts off, a weird look coming over his face, eyebrows drawn together in a way that looks almost painful. ‘I had planned for this to just be a thing between the two of us:’

It’s the first time he feels like he’s intruding on them, playing third wheel in a duo never meant for him. He immediately hates how it settles in his stomach, knows it's absolutely ridiculous of him. To be upset about them wanting to spend time without him. Ste had called him clingy before, and he’s _not. He’s really not._ It’s just that they’ve never excluded him, not really. If anything, both of them have seemed often more comfortable with him in the middle as a bit of a buffer against awkwardness. James gently prodding if he’d like to have lunch with him and Romeo at the Dog, heck Romeo and him even striking up a fresh friendship of eating crumbly sandwiches together and stuffing their mouths while playing some Assassin's Creed – James somewhere sat on a bar stool in the kitchen, sipping an espresso and pretending to be busy with some files while every so often looking up and watching them fondly.

‘Oh.’, is all he can say in the end. James is biting his lip and Romeo looks like he wants to say something, his mouth open, and his eyes looking sorry. ‘Oh..that’s.That’s alright then. I’ll have an early night, catch up on some Netflix, open up a new big of chips. Maybe even make some popcorn and go all fancy.’

He wills his voice to be cheerful, nonchalant, forcing his lips to stretch upwards into a reassuring smile. James stares at him with something in his eyes Harry can’t quite decipher and the older man breathes out through his nose, the noise sounding frustrated. He’s not sure what to make of it, his usual ways of reading James failing him.

Romeo breaks the silence after a few seconds. ‘Don’t eat my Snickers bar, though. And for the next pub quiz, you’ll come along, yeah?’ Romeo’s white teeth peek out as he makes the offer with a smile, it looks honest – but also a bit like he’s trying to make up for something.

Harry is starting to feel a bit sick, despises himself for it, but he swallows it all down and nods. ‘Yeah, sure. Trust me, Zack and I gathered a lot of valuable experience on our pub trips when when we should have studied for our finals instead. You’ll need my Thompson charm to win all the important points’, he jokes.

He risks another glance back at James, some part in the back of his mind hoping his boyfriend will add something, maybe not even invite him along but tell him to wait up for him tonight, or tease him about saving him some popcorn and not watch too many episodes of _Pose_ without him.

But nothing comes, the older man’s lips stay pressed together and Harry needs to leave this room before he does something stupid. Like tear up or actually get nauseous over his feet or the kitchen sink. He grabs his phone from the coffee table, turning around and with his back to them calls out ‘Has anyone seen my charger?’. Down the hallway he bites onto his lip hard to stop the quivering.

Later he can’t quite focus on the tv screen, constantly tempted to check his phone, to see if James has shot him a message. But it stays silent. He briefly considers sending out a text himself, a slightly flirty – and maybe just a tiny bit petty – _miss me yet?_ But he doesn’t cave. Thinks about the word clingy again. About puppy love and nipping after someone’s feet.

He doesn’t even finish his bowl of popcorn before he goes to bed. The orange neon digits on the alarm clock don’t even strike midnight yet when he falls asleep.

He’s not sure how much time has passed when something makes him halfway wake up again, somwhere bewteen his hazy dreaminess and the stark darkness of the room. There’s dull noise and whispering commotion from just outside, shuffling feet and then water running next door.

He keeps his eyes closed, feels a weird annoying throb in his head that he gets from overthinking things and making himself too upset. He’s fallen asleep again when a warm body settles up behind him. Large palms settle on his hips, slipping between him and the mattress on one side and playing a bit with the cotton at the hem of his shirt on the other.

He keeps his eyes closed and his body completely lax, not giving away any reaction. He’s not particularly in the mood for talking now, thinks him being so sleep drunk mgiht just make him blurt out something incredibly stupid he’ll regret. But James doesn’t try to wake him, quickly settles against him and softly exhales against his neck once – a breath that feels like ‘ _im happy to be home with you_ ’. His fingers feel a bit fidgety though, knuckles almost tense and worry rises in Harry if something might have happened between him and Romeo. Did they have an argument? Or did the yonger boy maybe have a bit too much alcohol for his inexperience and act a bit out of order like seventeen year olds are known to do? Before he can even think of asking anything out loud, James whispers into his skin. ‘I’ll protect you. Both of you. I love you..so much’, lips gracing his hair and scalp. He suddenly has colors whirling and buzzing in his brain and through his eyelids, a million question marks forming in his head. Warmth settles in his stomach that feels both love dunked and like it’s preparing for something dreadful. But he’s tired, so so tired. There’s a chant inside of him of ‘ _ask him about it tomorrow_ ’ before sleep wins again.

He doesn’t ask him about it tomorrow morning. Woken up by James mouthing at his nipple through his shirt, a hand gliding up over the skin of his stomach and a smirked ‘good morning’ thrown up at him as he opens his eyes before the older man sinks lower and _lower_ and doesn’t stop for a long time, until he’s pulled him apart and put him back together twice

During breakfast, the question has pretty much disappeared from his mind already. Romeo making some simple pancakes and getting out those fancy French jams that James loves. He can still taste the peach when he gives his boyfriend a goodbye kiss before he heads off to the office for the day. Romeo gathering together a few pencils and papers into his bag, saying he’s heading off to help Lily with some course work. He still looks at Harry a bit too suspiciously a few times, like he’s trying to gauge his mood after last night, see if he’s secretly pissed. Harry is not, definitely not at him. More at himself, if anything. And by now what he really cares about is what’s going on bewteen Romeo and Lily, one day he’ll get it out of the younger boy without him trying to explain they’re ‘just friends’ and ‘just hanging out’ before he stutters and flees the conversation.

Harry starts his shift at the _Price Slice_ around noon, Zack having secured a job for him with Lisa before he left. And while doing the stock is far from exciting, it makes him feel useful. And it’s good to do his own little thing for a few hours a day.

He’s filling up the shelf of drugstore products, lining up a row of stick deodorants, when a flash of red hair suddenly stops next to him.

‘Put them on a leash.’, a soft but high voice booms out next to him, making him jump slightly. Juliet.

He turns to face her, greeted with a face twisted in irritation.

‘Hello to you, too’; he retorts, putting up two more of the sticks neatly, hoping that maybe if he just ignores her, she’ll go away or at least try a different approach.

‘Put. them. on. a. leash.’, she enunciates again, louder this time, voice overflowing with anger.

He sighs, giving up.

‘What are you even talking about?’ He’s not trying to hide his annoyance.

‘James and Romeo. Tell me you know how to make them behave. How to..wrap them aound your finger or whatever’ Her ponytail is bobbing wildly as she gesticulates with her hands, school backpack moving with her entire body over her shoulders.

‘Okay…I have no clue what you’re talking about. Also..calm down, yeah? We have customers.’

He’s barely even talked to her before, had gotten some pasta and pepsi with Romeo at the Dog once when she had showed up and pressed a paper into her brother's hands, asking him to sign something for a class trip. Romeo had quickly introduced him, Juliet not paying much attention to him at all and Harry very much enjoying the carbs laid out infront of him.

The younger boy quickly scribbling onto the sheet and Juliet taking it back with a grin before quickly looking over to him and quipping ‘That sweater is nice.’ Harry had been caught off guard for a second, thinking she might not want to acknowledge him much more and looked down at the burnt orange knit. ‘Thanks.’, he had said , a bit perplexed and questioning. ‘You should take some fashion advice from him or something, those suspenders you wear really aren’t it anymore, you know.’ She had thrown the remark at her brother before promptly turning around and leaving, Romeo yelling a minutely offended ‘hey’ after her.

‘I’m talking about these two idiots paying Mac a visit last night. What on earth do they think they’re doing?’

Harry can hear her voice and then his breathing, the blood rushing into his ears and his fingers gripping tighter onto the plastic shelf, fingernails scraping against it.

‘Wait, what? What do you mean?’

Juliet huffs, seeming frustrated with his babbling and rolls her eyes in a way very much akin to her brother.

‘They came by the flat last night, Romeo pretended he had come to spend some time with me. But then I saw James was with him as well and as soon as they got inside they basically told me to go upstairs, that they had some things to discuss. Treating me like a five year old who can’t be part of grown up conversations.’

Harry thinks back to their weird behavior yesterday, the pub story and James still tense when he had finally returned home and into their bed. It’s starting to come together and he hates it, hates all of instantly.

‘Did you hear what they were talking about then?’, he asks. His eyebrows are drawn together tightly, mind whirling with all the scenarios of a Mac, James and Romeo confrontation they had felt the need to hide from him. None of the possiblities make him feel any better.

‘Of course, I’m not stupid, duh. They were threatening him, okay?’

‘Threatening him?’

‘Yes! Are you even listening to me? James was the worst. He was going in on Mac, talking to him like he was the scum of the earth. Told him to stay away from you and Romeo. That if he even dared to lay one finger on you, he wouldn’t live to tell anyone about it. He’d be a dead man.’

A shiver goes through Harry at those words. He imagines how they must have sounded coming out of James’ mouth, pure hatred flinging into the air with them, right in his father’s face. He suddenly feels very cold.

Juliet on the other hand, is very much still heated. ‘He basically suggested he should leave town, for good. Never come back and forget all of our existences. Then Romeo chimed in, acting proper tough, going on and on about how he would keep a close eye on him, that he should always feel watched. That if he ever saw me with just a hair out of place or a tiny scratch anywhere, Mac would receive everything tenfold. How he wouldn’t even be safe in his prison cell. The nerve of him to even insinuate something like that! I’m his freaking aunt now, should I play spy on him as well? Bet he wouldn’t like that, would he?’

He tries to memorise every word, every threat. Thinks about how Mac might retaliate in return. Is he already lingering outside the store somwhere, sinisterly watching this conversation? He risks a peek through the front window, but there’s no one there.

‘Hello?’, Juliet interrupts, waving a hand infront of his face, bringing him back to the moment. ‘Do you have nothing to say?’

His brain is a frenzy of ‘ _fuck fuck fucks_ ’ right now, which he thinks despite being only a few years older than her, wouldn’t be very appropriate to let out right now.

‘Look, you don’t know Mac. Not like James does. And probably not even like Romeo does. While I don’t agree with the way they want about it…your brother was just trying to protect you.’ It’s the safest thing to say, he’s not gonna be the one to unpack all of Mac’s history to the girl who’s recently found out that man is her biological father. She should get to stay in the dark for a bit longer.

‘I’m not some child that needs protecting.’; she lets out indignantly. He looks at her face, a bit of baby fat still on her cheeks and he almost feels sorry for her. ‘Mac is..he’s my father. I know he hasn’t been there for me but..he’s trying. He cooks me dinner, my favourite curry and actually listens when I talk about the music I like. He’s helped me with my homework, I Improved a whole grade in English. He’s doing his best and I like it. I like _him_ and I’m not gonna let Romeo or your boyfriend ruin that!’

The door to the store clinks open and Lisa comes in, the spare coins for the till in her hands. She looks at them a bit surprisedly, arches an eyebrow and slowly makes her way to the back of the store.

Harry sighs again, rubbing his temples.

‘I’m not gonna be able to change your mind on this right now either way. Just..maybe talk to Romeo? Hear him out. And stay out of trouble, yeah?’

‘I just basically told you that the two people closest to you are planning to murder my father and this..this is all you’ve got? No plan? No ‘yes, of course I’ll tell them off and make sure they’ll never ever pull through with it’?

‘I can’t promise you anything like that. They didn’t even clue me in on it and clearly, they don’t want you having any part in it either. So..no. Sorry.’

Juliet stares at him with her lips pressed together, like she’s trying very hard not to throw some insult at him, and then tugs her backpack higher up to turn around, muttering a ‘Gosh men are useless’ under her breath.

He looks after her for a few more seconds when she exits, but there is still no ominous figure lurking outside. Turning back around to the boxes full of tooth paste and hand soap, he wonders how his entire day turned to complete shit so quickly.

Of course he thinks about it all day. A constant nagging in his mind. Wondering when the two of them decided to make this plan. And when they decided Harry should not be involved. That part still stings more than he’d like to admit. Fine, James probably didn’t want him to come along because his protective side told him not to. But not even telling him about it? Making up some excuse to keep him in the dark? That’s not them.

He considers just leaving him an angry voice mail or giving him the silent treatment until he cracks. That both might work but..Harry wants James to tell him about it himself, wants him to feel like he can trust Harry with this. He knows shoving and prodding would probably do not much good right now, might just make James feel more agitated and have him lash out with frustration.

Romeo is most likely sworn into secrecy as well, if his apologetic looks from this morning are anything to go by.

So Harry drops it, tells himself they will come to him when the moment is right.

When James comes home that evening, he drops his brief case with quite the audible sigh, before coming over to where him and Romeo are working on some chicken mince patties.

‘Bad day?’, is what he asks when the older man goes to pour himself a small glass of gin, one arm wrapping around Harry’s middle, soft fingers stroking his side, almost tickling.

‘Mh. Much better aleady though.’

‘Good. Then you can start chopping those onions over there.’ James laughs into his hair, but obediently goes over to the cutting board and puts his drink down beside it.

‘This looks gross.’, Romeo comments with a drawn up nose, looking down att the pink meat in the bowl.

‘It’ll taste good though once it’s seared.’ He clicks his tongue, trying to let go of the remark already forming but then just…’Better than pub food anyway, right?’

James’ hand stills on the knife, the edge coming down clunkily onto the wood and Romeo’s head snaps in his direction almost comically quickly.

‘Right. Definitely, yeah.’, is what the younger boy lets out, meeting his eyes for a moment, Harry trying to challenge him with his, before he turns back to the chicken. James takes another sip before the knife moves again, hand gripping it tightly. Harry kneads his part of the patty mixure with more force.

______________________________________________________________________

A couple days later, there’s an event at the Dog. Mercedes has been handing out flyers about her ‘ _Fantastical February_ ’ party all week. It promises tropical cocktails, a DJ, and just a whole bunch of summer flair for the middle of winter.

He manages to convince James to go with him, really plays up his blue puppy eyes, knowing that his boyfriend will absolutely hate being surrounded by crowds of people in Hawaiian shirts.

The older man even seems only sighty irritated when he gets served his lime green cocktail with a blue sugar rim and a floating little umbrella. Harry has ordered some weird creamy berry booze that is super pink, sweet and delicious.

Harry lets James taste it off of his lips when the music gets a bit too loud and James’ frown a bit too grumpy.

 When _Summer of '69_ starts playing, Harry shimmies his shoulders and gets a grin on his face. And an idea.

‘Dance with me.’, he prompts, putting down his glass.

James’ eyes dart over to him, pupils widening slightly.

‘No, no way. Not happening.’

‘Pleaaasse.’, he whines, reaching out to trace his hand up James’ arm and shoulder, digging into his collarbone.

 James’ fingers come up to settle over his, stroking back and forth over his knuckles and the back of his palm

‘There are very few things I wouldn’t do for you, my darling. Dancing to some DJ who thinks he’s revolutinizing the music scene by adding ten times the amount of bass..isn’t one of them.’

Harry snorts, having a feeling he won’t win this particular fight. He does love James’ stubborness after all.

‘Fine, be the party pooper then.’, he gets another swig of his raspberry concoction, siwrling the straw around in the middle.

‘Oh don’t pout like that. I promise to take you out somewhere soon. Proper wine and dine you. And then maybe, key word being maybe, you’ll get a slow dance out of me.’

 Harry imagines it, a dimmed restaurant with flowing table cloths and red wine that makes both of them a bit flushed. James settling a hand on his hip and linking the other one with Harry’s, a lullaby of pianos and bowed string instruments swaying with them.

‘Alright. That’s a deal then.’, he says, already looking forward to it. A gorgeous smile spreads across James’ face as he looks at him, reaching out to wipe softly over his chin with the pad of his thumb and pulling his gaze to him more directly.

‘I did say maybe.’

‘And we both know I can be veeery good at persuasion.’

 His boyfriend laughs but doesn’t bother denying it. ‘Touché.’, he answers - looking around the room as if to say ‘you did drag me here after all’

Harry takes a moment to scour the Dog as well, looking at sweaty people on the dance floor and the girl behind the bar watering down a guys’ drink who already looks like he’ll be throwing up any minute, a bit green in the face.

And then there, in the far back, on one of the faux-leather couches..is Mac. He has one leg drawn up, one arm thrown behind the sofa and he’s staring straight at him. His eyes are unreadable from this distance. But he thinks that even if he was stood closer to him, he still wouldn’t be able to make out anything but the usual iciness and calculated observation.

The music drums in his ears and his palms suddenly feel wet around the glass and it might just be the condensation but then Mac keeps staring, eyes falling down to where Harry’s hand is still hovering gently on James’ shoulder. And Harry..Harry has just had _enough_. Enough of all of this. He shoves his drink away, almost sloshing some over it over the rim, and then fisting his hands into the front of James’ shirt, wildly pulling him towards him and crashing their lips together.

The older man makes a suprised noise in the back of his throat, overwhelmed by the sudden display of affection and the ferocity of it, his mouth open but still as Harry moves against him. It takes him only a second to reciprocate though, plush lips finding a rhythm and the combination of both their booze creating a pleasing stickiness. James’ tongue glides over his own, pressing down gently and gliding smoothly just over the tips of his canines. Harry’s fingers have found their way to the top button of his shirt, two of them gliding beneath it to feel the coarse start of chest hair there and James’ hands have both settled on his hips now. Pressing into him there over his jeans and slowly gliding a bit backwards…that’s when Harry opens his eyes and turns his head just ever so slightly to the left, pupils finding what he’s looking for instantly.

Mac is still watching, face absolutely contorted in outrageous disgust, wrinkles from it forming all over near his eyes and dragging his frown even more downwards. The lighting in here is a bit weird anyway, but Harry knows his face has gone very red against the stark contrast of his white hair.

He gets a sick twist of satisfaction out of it, knowing this homophobic piece of shit is seeing them like this and absolutely hating every second of it, but also too infuriated and stubborn to look away.

And then James must notice the way he has moved, their lips not meeting together properly with the way Harry is sitting anymore and him having sort of stopped his frantic rutting with his stark focus on Mac. His boyfriend’s hands come to a halt on his lower spine, sort of hovering there questioningly as he pulls back a bit more.

‘Did I do something wrong? What-?’, he asks and then it’s already too late, his gaze following Harry’s and meeting Mac’s eyes straight on. James’entire body goes immediately tense under his palms, Harry feels his own pulse but then James’ is getting faster within seconds.

It’s all gone wrong, like the universe just shifted around them a bit and he doesn’t know how to get it back. The vein on the older man’s neck is protruding as he keeps looking to the sofa, eventhough he’s turned away from him Harry can see that something crosses his face that makes everything feel darker.

Harry doesn’t know what to do, feels both guilty and frustrated and hot all over, so he does the most stupid thing imaginable and tightens his grip on James’ button up again, surging upwards to smash their lips together again.

It knocks their noses together awkwardly, almost painfully, and Harry doesn’t even manage to propely get James’ lower lip between his own before he gets pushed back firmly.

‘What are you doing?’, James asks. A look of utter confusion and betrayal on his face.

It makes his heart sink, knowing for sure he’s fucked up now. The drink in his stomach and the aftertaste of it in his mouth is starting to feel a bit sour, yet somehow his tongue feels impossibly dry.

‘I’m sorry, I was just…I just wanted to kiss you.’

‘Infront of Mac? You knew he was sitting there, didn’t you?’ James shakes his head slightly like he’s still trying to understand what Harry’s actually just done and why.

‘I..Look, I didn’t think it was a big deal. I just thought I-‘

‘Thought you what? Would send him a message? Prove something to him?’ Harry’s not quite sure himself what he thought, just that he wanted to show Mac that..that he didn’t care what he thought of him and James, of them being together. That he was not gonna let his presence ruin them being a couple and doing couply things in this village. He knew it was the wrong way to go abouit all before he even did it.

‘I guess I just wanted to, I don’t know, show him that we weren’t bothered by him. That we’re not scared of him’, he tries to explain helplesslly, shrugging out his arms.

James laughs, but it’s deprecating and metallic and they both know there’s nothing funny about it .

‘If you’re not scared of Mac, you’re an idiot.’, he hisses out. Harry shrinks back a bit, shame settling over him.

‘I’m sorry, I really am.’, he repeats. ‘I know that-‘

‘You don’t know anything.’ _Because you don’t tell me things anymore_ , Harry wants to scream. He swallows it down resolutely.

James rubs his hands over his face, sighing, and then getting up from the bar chair. ‘I’m gonna head to the toilets, freshen up a bit. And then we should go home. I have a long day tomorrow.’

Harry can only nod and stare into his lap.

He knows he shouldn’t but he looks back at Mac one more time. The man has a smug grin decorating his face now, corners of his lips tugged up like the Joker without any clown makeup.

The image of that stays with him all night, even when they’re lying in bed and his eyes are drooping. Both of them having apologized again. Him for pulling that little stunt and James for overreacting. He still wants to dig deeper, ask him what exactly he’s so afraid of, what he thinks Mac might be planning in detail. He can’t imagine he would like the answer but he craves it anyway. Maybe he’s a bit of a masochist that way, the same way James went and confronted his abuser knowing there might be consequences.

The same way he pulls James’ arm off of his stomach that night after the other man has fallen asleep, tiny snores being breathed into his neck, just to feel a bit of coldness creep over him and not forget the the shiver he felt when he thought Mac was following them all the way home.

______________________________________________________________________

Harry and James have been through a lot of shit, a real rollercoaster of bad times and slightly better times only made truly bright by the other’s presence. So they can’t stay mad or weird with eachother very long.

The older man brings home a bouquet of tulips and daisies the next day, the pink almost matching the shade on his face when he presents them to Harry with Romeo watching from the couch, cooing a ‘well aren’t you a romantic after all’, humour and fondness both coming through from his voice.

The flowers still look fresh and blooming three days later when the door falls shut behind Romeo and Harry promptly pushes James up against the kitchen island, untying the knot on his morning robe and sinking to his knees.

He sees the pink slowly fading and crumbling in the reflection of the tv when James has him bent over the sofa a day later.

And then that next morning, he wakes up alone. He’s confused at first as to what exactly it is now that has interrupted his slumber when he hears someone talking - not to him though. Somewhere from within the flat. James.

He blinks his eyes open, everything still feeling a bit muffled, including the noise. He sits ups and stretches out his neck and shoulders, letting out a yawn and a few funny sounding grunts. Pulling back the blanket, he immediately looks for some jogging pants, the cold hitting him and giving him goosebumps. He pulls on a grey pair over his boxers, as well as stumblingly getting on some socks and opens their bedroom door.

Once in the hallway, James’ voice is instantly clearer to him.

‘I’m always one step ahead of you. It might have taken me a while, you might even call me slow for it..but I’ve learned.’

Harry stops, the wood creaking under his toes. Confused about the seriousness in James’ voice and the topic. He focuses, thinks maybe sleep is making him still woozy and oontinues his way.

‘You have nothing, absolutely nothing….Oh please, you looked like the cheshire cat. But you know I’m right, I know you can hear it in my voice.You pride yourself on being a good people reader, don’t try to hide your oh so glorious talents now.’

He’s almost in the doorframe to the living room, his mind whirling with piecing together the pieces of conversation, not really catching anything from whoever James is talking to on the phone. There’s a bitterness to his voice that makes the morning chill seem even more apparent, makes something twist in the pit of his stomach and all thoughts of coffee, milk and dragging James back into bed disappear rather quickly.

‘I fooled you, I fooled you and you didn’t see it coming. All those things I said, just to blindside you, and it worked.’ James breathes a hysterical laugh into the speaker. ‘You truly believed I cared for him. That I wasn’t aware of the fact that he was just using me for a roof over his head and to raid my fridge. To fulfill some primal sexual urges when he just couldn’t quite help himself like some hormonal freak .’

It takes him a split second to realize it and then ' _he’s talking about you'_ just plays over and over again in his head, reverberating back and forth against his brain. _He’s talking about me._

‘There’s not an ounce inside of me that cares about him.’ Harry reaches out to steady himself against the wall, his legs feeling like pudding. ‘He’s nothing, just another dirty speck of existense in this pitiful town that has somehow clung on to me. You can’t use him against me, not when I’ve used him up already. I’m sure you’ve heard the gossip, Mac. I pimped him out.’

His eyes sting and there’s a knot in his throat that feels as big as a melon. He thinks it’s all like he’s in a bad dream, like the real Harry is still laying in bed and making up this fucked up scenario somwhere in the quarters of his mind.

That masochistic part wins over again, knowingly stepping even closer to the living room and biting his lower lip harshly, making himself focus absolutely clearly. The tiny sharp pain making everything feel clear, the sunlight drowning into where he’s standing. It’s morning, he’s awake and this isn’t a nightmare. Not really, anyway, just one that he’s actually living.

‘You really thought you had me in the palm of you hand, didn’t you? Thought I had been wrapped around the finger of this..this little twink. So tell, me how does it feel, knowing that your years of abuse and torment have only made me stronger. Practically invincible against big eyes staring up at me and promising me things I know they won’t ever keep.’

Harry thinks he might just actually be sick, suddenly pushing himself off of the wall and back down the hallway.

He stumbles into the bathroom, hands shaking as he grips the sink, he retches once. A bodily reflex more than anything, no liquid coming up. His forearms tremble with the way he’s leaning and his face looks grey and pale when he looks in the mirror. He needs to…he needs to leave. Now. He splashes cold water onto his cheeks and forehead, wipes off his hands on his pants and then heads to the bedroom.

Grabbing his gym bag from the closet and stuffing random articles of clothing inside, not being able to think properly, thoughts running at a hundred miles an hour. James saying those words…calling him dirty, nothing, _absolutely nothing_ , that he believes none of Harry’s promises of their future, of them and their love…that all those past weeks and months have been one big nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. He’s a fucking fool.

He’s throwing pants, underwear and socks inside, then noticing some of James’ and his own sweaters have mixed together from where they were put in the closet. He gets angry at it, at them living together and him building this life and those fantasies…pulling out the soft longsleeve he’s stolen from James multiple times, before hastily throwing it aside.

He’s not sure what’s actually inside the bag once he’s finished with it, tugging quickly on the zipper, slinging it over his shoulder and then storming out. When he opens the bedroom door, he thinks how it might be the last time he sees this room.

Down the hallway, and then actually into the living room this time. He comes to a halt like he’s walked against an invisible wall, sees James sitting at the breakfast bar with his head in his hands. Shoulders hunched, his entie body looking like it’s trembling in the quietness of everything.

Harry’s breath catches and he despises that he’s an angry crier and that he wants to go over to him and hug him, slide his hands over his arms calmingly in a way that he knows will calm him down. But that’s not something he can do right now, if he doesn’t want his heart to crumble into even more tiny pieces.

‘I’m leaving.’; he says loudly. James’ shoulders jump at his voice, head snapping up at him instantly. He looks horrible. Horriby beautiful with red, swollen eyes and lilac bags underneath them. His hair messed up like he’s been tugging at it. He seems confused at first, then shocked, and then completely confused again.

‘Harry. What..’

‘I’m leaving. You won’t have to put up with me anymore.’ He steps further into the room, looking straight ahead at the other man. Thinking the least he deserves is to see the utter pain and devastation in his eyes. A small part of him hopes it will haunt him.

James stands up, walking towards him, face still twisted up in bewilderment.

‘What are you talking about? I..you have to tell me what’s going on here, because I really have no idea.’, he asks incredulously, eyebrows drawn together, and something appearing in his eyes that looks like fear.

‘It’s alright, it’s nothing for you to worry about anymore. I’ll be out of your hair.’ He continues his way to the door, James frantically coming to stand infront of him, desperately holding out his hands to build a barrier.

‘Harry, Harry please..I don’t understand. If I’ve done something wrong then we should talk about it.’

He swallows, looks into his boyfriend's – and oh _wow_ , that hurts too, how he’ll probably never get to call him that again – eyes, his own quickly filling with wet tears.

‘There’s nothing to talk about. I think you’ve said all you had to say already, don’t you think?’

He walks past him, shoulder brushing, and James’ quickly reaches out to grasp his arm.

‘So what, you’re just gonna leave like that without even telling me what I’ve apparently said or done so horribly wrong? Really mature, truly.’

It’s clear that James is now trying to hide his panic with bitterness and sarcasm. Any other day Harry might take it, might even find it entertaining at times, his quips and one liners.

‘That’s just another thing you’ll be rid of then, right? My immaturity. Right next to my hormonal urges.’

He turns his head towards him as he says it, can’t help himself but revel in spitting those words back at him.

The moment when James realizes what it is, when his face sacks and his mouth drops open, eyebrows going up again and pupils hurriedly searching Harry’s, is almost funny. Almost, if all of this wasn’t quite so fucked up.

‘You heard me.’ His voice is soft when he says it, like pushing the words out hurts him, like he’s bearing his soul anyway.

‘Yes, I heard you. I heard all of it. But don’t worry, I’m not gonna be clinging onto you anymore or taking up space in your bed. You won’t even notice I was here at all.’ He tries to shrug his arm out of James’ grasp, but the other man holds on tightly.

‘No, no! You have to listen to me, Harry. You've got it all wrong.’

Harry breathes out a deprecating laugh. ‘Of course I have. I’ve been wrong all this time, haven’t I? All those past weeks where I thought we were actually building a relationship, a… a family. It was all one big lie. I was just another piece in your endless game against Mac.’

He moves his arm again, James distracted by staring and listening to him, and his hand slipping from his bicep. But he barely makes another step before James’ fingers find another place near his elbow.

‘You need to listen to me, please. Just for one second, Harry, I’m begging you here.’

He looks back into the older man’s eyes, brimming with honesty and desperation, feels like he can see his own shining back at him and thinks he’s somewhere between telling James to go screw himself and storming out that god damn door and staying and actually screwing James.

Something makes him stay. Probably the same thing that made him get into that car with James all that time agao, same thing that made him show up at James’ flat when he was bruised and full of self-hate. The very thing that made him seek out the the older man in prison, despite it being a physical place bringing back the worst memories, just so he could talk to him for half an hour a few days a week.

He doesn’t say anything, pressing his lips together, waiting for James to continue.

The other man’s shoulders sag slightly in relief when it’s made clear that he’s getting his shot to explain things.

‘Everything you heard, every single word that I said to Mac just now…it was all lies. You have to believe me, Harry, please.’

‘Oh, just another round of lies then, huh? Just like you and Romeo lied about where you really went to during pub night?’ It comes out less snappy and more actually worried than he intends to, his voice going up a bit shrill at the end there.

James looks confused, then guilt washes ove his face.

‘How do you know about that?’

Harry scoffs. ‘Is that what really matters here? How I came to find out about it? Not the fact that you didn’t tell me about it at all. Not even after you had gone to see him.’ He licks his lips, mouth horribly dry from finally getting out all his words. ‘Do you know how that felt? Knowing you had put yourself in danger, threatened Mac on behalf of me, and then didn’t bother mentioning it once…I felt useless, absolutely useless. And like I had done something to lose part of your trust. And I get it okay? I haven’t been always amazing at making you feel like I could become a permanent partner at your side but…I thought these last few weeks..I’ve been giving my everything. I’ve..I’ve completely given myself to you and then you just, you sabotage things.’

A tear finally betrays him, slipping down his cheek down to the corner of his mouth.

James looks like he’s in actual pain because of what he just said, then slowly, oh so very slowly, reaching out to wipe away the salty moisture from his skin. Like he’s afraid Harry will shrug him off again. He doesn’t, his soft thumb caressing the heated skin of his flushed face in tiny caresses before moving away.

‘Im so sorry. I only wanted to protect you.’ And Harry knows, okay, in the very back of his mind he knows this but..it’s been a rough few days. ‘I thought I was doing the right thing. Putting my cards on the table. Letting Mac know that this wasn’t a game anymore. That if he even just..looked at you the wrong way once I would..’, he stops himself – his gaze almost unbearably intense on Harry’s face. ‘Harry, if he ever hurt you. I would never be able to forgive myself. I would kill him with my bare hands. And I wouldn’t care what’d happen to me afterwards.’

His confession makes Harry tingle, both with an insane amount of worry for this man he loves, this fool with too many self-sacrificing tendencies. Then there’s this tiny other part inside of him, thinking about James drenched in his father’s blood, having killed for him, that couldn’t be more erotic in the most depraved and feral way possible. He pushes that part away for now, focusing on the first.

‘And how would you feel if I went and threatened Mac to stay the hell away from you, hm? Because I want to, every fibre of me wants to just yell at him to never talk to you again.’

James lowers his eyes for a moment, mumbling out a ‘I would hate it. I would feel terribly worried he would come after you.’

A tiny smile finally appears on Harry’s face again. Before he can even think about it, he reaches out to take James’ hand, pressing his fingers over the lawyer’s – who looks back up at him immediately. Something like wonder on his face.

‘Exactly. And I bet you’d feel even worse if I then lied about doing it in the first place. And you had to find out through someone else.’

James’ pinky moves gently over his, tickling him slightly. The older man sighs but conceides. ‘You’re right. I should have told you and I can’t apologize enough for trying to keep you in the dark about it. I don’t want you to think that I don’t trust you. You have to know that. You’re..you’re the person I trust most in life.’

Harry swallows down the last of his hurt part his adam’s apple. ‘I do. I do know that.’ And it’s the tuth.

‘And after what happened at the Dog..after I saw Mac’s face that night. I knew that I had really only made things worse.’

‘Well, I guess I did play a part in that one.’, Harry admits.

James’ lips tug up, his eyes finally lighting up again.

‘Trust me, I enjoyed it anyway. But that expression..I’d seen that before. When I wouldn’t even try to flirt with his co-workers daughter at the company’s Christmas dinner. When I read books he had deemed as too gay just based on the cover alone. When he knew Manie was asleep and he came into my room, knowing I would be lying there already terrified of him. And then after, when he’d stare at my split lips and forming bruises, proud that he’d put them there. Feeling like every punch had turned me into just a tiny bit more of a what he considered a real man.’

 Harry squeezes his fingers tight against James’, hatred for his father settling hot in his stomach.

‘I couldn’t do nothing. I knew he would strike at some point. And I was terrified I wouldn’t be there to stop him. So I told myself that if I just managed to convince him that you meant nothing to me, that you were just some arm candy and irrelevant to my overall happiness…he’d stay away.’ James’ eyes turn misty again and Harry shakes his head, his heart too full of love for the man stannding infront of him. So he drops down the bag, and steps closer to him until their foreheads are pressed ogether.

The older man sighs through his nose, warm breath hitting Harry’s face. This close, it feels like they’re lying in their dark bubble in bed again, making it easier for James to explain himself. ‘I’m so sorry you had to hear me say all those…disgusting, horrible things about you. About us. None of them were true, none of them. Harry, don’t you know that..that you’re simply everything to me?’

Harry’s whole body feels like it’s shining, like James’ love is covering him in sparkling gold. He surges upwards, letting their lips meet. His boyfriend, and this time thinking the word feels beautiful, reciprocates immediately. Their mouths glide together with a soft passion, James’ hands settling on his hip bones, occasionaly moving upwards to stroke just under his ribs and press gently into his sides. The other man tastes a bit like tooth paste and it fills his mouth as well, minty freshness mixing together as Harry licks past James’ lower lip. The other man lets out a moan at the plush sensation and the sound makes Harry shiver with pleasure.

Eventually, he has to pull back to get some air, James’ lips still trying to follow his, making him grin.

James breaks out into a smile as well, his eyes alight with that same gold he’s still feeling, green shimmering like hazel in the early morning sun coming through the windows.

‘I love you.’, is what he says next, like it’s the simplest thing in the whole world. It really is.

‘I love you, too.’ James’ posture shows the same easiness, like those words have never burned him deeply before. Harry thinks that maybe they do still burn, but in a different way. In a way that makes him think he’d love to be on fire forever.

Harry slides his hands up James’ chest, briefly feeling his heartbeat under his fingertips, beofre settling on his shoulders. They’re alive, they have two hearts that beat for one another and their blood runs hot. They’re gonna be alright.

‘And we’re gonna find a way to deal with Mac, together. Alright?’

James’ smile dims slightly, dark shadows threatening to fall over his face again, but then he searches Harry’s eyes and must see the utter determination and conviction. ‘And if we have to do more than just deal with him? What if I told you I want him gone. For good. And I don’t just mean out of this town.’

He swallows, remembers the flashes of blood he had imagined earlier. This time, behind his eyelids, he feels the crimson run over and stick to his fingers as well.

‘Then we’ll find a way.’, Harry repeats. ‘I’m not going anywhere, no matter what. I pomise you.’

James looks at him like he’s the sun as he kisses him again, sparks bursting between their bodies, so bright someone might just burn themselves on them

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for giving this a read - i must say i'm quite proud of how this turned out  
> as usual, your comments and kudos keep me motivated and inspired, so never by shy with them!
> 
> all the love and until next time x


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